Erin Molan: Powerful message of love amidst a gruesome war

A mother’s heartbreaking plea for the safety of her children in Gaza will resonate with parents everywhere, writes Erin Molan

There are few things parents fear more than harm coming to our children.

It’s difficult to even imagine, let alone bead,

For Maayan Zin, her worst nightmare became a reality on October 7. Her two daughters were taken by Hamas terrorists, their father killed.

It’s been nearly 50 days and the agony is unimaginable, well it was, until she wrote an open letter this week. Seeing images of all children caught up in this horrific situation has been heartbreaking and sickening but there was something about this mother’s letter that hit extra hard.

It made me think about what I’d do in the same situation. It forced me and many other mothers I know to stop and reflect.

The age old ‘I’d give my life for my children’ is a phrase commonly used.

I’ve resorted to it many times, it normally precedes some ridiculous irrelevant complaint I have about something five-year-old Eliza is doing that annoys me at the time — it goes something like this ‘I love my daughter more than life BUT’ or ‘I’d give my life for Eliza BUT’, she’s driving me crazy today. Never have I ever had to use that phrase in any substantial way and I hope to god I never do.

This letter by Maayan is raw and difficult. “I have nothing left to ask of this world but this: Take me to my girls. Take me to Gaza.”

Maayan Zin shows pictures of her missing daughters during an interview in her flat in the central Israeli city of Kiryat Ono near Tel Aviv. Pictire: AFP

She continues: “My bag is packed. I will take only a few items: chocolate milk that my daughters love, shoes that are good for running and a new bandage for Eli — the last photograph we have of her in captivity shows that she is injured.”

Can you imagine? She finishes it off with: “In my jeans pocket I will carry a photograph of Noam, their father, who we believe was killed in front of their eyes. Take me to Gaza in his memory.”

There was something so raw yet so agonisingly familiar about this desperate plea.

As a mother, and even if it meant certain death, you’d do anything in your power to ease the pain of your children, even slightly.

I asked Maayan if she’d talk to me for my Sky News Australia show this afternoon and she agreed.

It’s hard to watch but the world cannot forget what happened on October 7.

While the techs were setting up to record our zoom I was fixated on her. I couldn’t help it.

She didn’t really move, she had one arm at an angle in front of her and abjectly slumped down toward it.

It looked as though her head was too heavy. The weight of unimaginable grief and fear evident.

I smiled. She didn’t smile back. I understood why. She did smile though, as we spoke through a translator. Not at anything I’d said, but when she spoke about her daughters.

I asked her what they are like and what she misses.

People gather outside the Hostages and Missing Square in Tel Aviv after it was announced that 13 women and children would be released during temporary cease fire.

Her answer will break your heart.

I wanted to know the first thing she will do when, not if, she gets them back. Her response was unexpected but the more I have thought about it since, the more I get it.

Sometimes, the little things that our children do that can annoy us, tire us or frustrate us, might just be the exact things you miss when they are gone.

I guess what I’m saying is, while most of us will never have to go through Maayan’s ordeal, we will all inevitably, in one way or another, lose our kids. They will grow up, move out and leave us, and yes even writing that makes me cry.

Maybe, in what we consider to be our challenging and difficult lives, it is feasible that we can idealistically try to appreciate every second with our children, even when it’s hard.

When my daughter has a blocked nose and can’t sleep I feel awful for her.

When she doesn’t want to go to pre school and turns on the tears, I feel sick, worried that she might be anxious or that another child might be treating her unkindly.

How lucky am I that my guage of ‘difficult’ is so pathetic.

How blessed are we all that we live in a country like Australia.

We don’t even know we are alive. But we are — and what a blessing that is.